


Autumn

by sadreel-trash (mind_and_malady)



Series: Seasons [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Holding Hands, M/M, Stargazing, but he's been in denial, idk that part is sorta vague, its cute accept it, sam is also crushing really damn hard on gadreel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:14:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/pseuds/sadreel-trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Autumn brings constant rain and the cold kiss of frost to the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> So it's official that there will be background for this magical new playground. I don't know when it will come to be, but it's already got like a couple thousand words and a night's worth of tears in it, so. This is now a thing. But I'll finish up the cute af seasonal thing I've got going here first, and then I'll decide if they're really in the same verse or not. Because I'm honestly not sure yet.  
> We'll see how it goes.

Autumn brings constant rain and the cold kiss of frost to the world, painting the grass and trees in pale white. Animals scurry about, trying to gather enough food to survive the long winter, and the trees turn a vibrant array of red and gold. The wind gnaws through everything, cold and hungry.

Sam shivers slightly, hands curled around a cup of hot cider, standing in the open air outside the bunker. As cold as it was, the fresh air was welcome, and the mug filled with Bobby’s special cider recipe sent warmth churning through his bones. Everyone else was inside. It was late, after all, stars shining cold and clear in the sky.

There’s something familiar about watching the stars that settles the restlessness inside of Sam. They’ve stayed where they are for thousands of years; he can manage not walking off into the freezing night. But he can’t really resist getting a better look at them now that he’s decided to look up, so he climbs the concrete stairs and wanders off to the left a bit, readjusting the thick, blue plaid blanket over his shoulders.

He settles himself on the damp grass, ignores the chill that tries to sink into him and tilts his head up to watch the stars.

Sam has no idea how long he sits outside. An hour, maybe, give or take. But by the time he hears the door swing open with a creak, he’s out of cider, and his hands are digging into the blanket around him in an attempt to keep warm.

“It’s a nice night,” he says thoughtfully, not turning to look and see who it is that had joined him.

A body hovers slightly behind him for a long moment, before awkwardly folding into a seated position at his side, back perilously straight. “It is,” Gadreel agrees quietly, and his voice comes as a minor surprise to Sam. The angel tended not to show up around anyone alone - or, at least not around Sam alone. Sometimes he's grateful for that. More and more frequently, Sam finds himself wishing that the two of them were alone more often, free to talk without watching their words; free to talk about that _thing_ that was keeping him up tonight, something large and wild and just out of reach, eluding Sam’s attempts at understanding it.

Sam turns his head to meet the angel’s stare, green eyes cold and twinkling like the stars above them. His expression is mostly neutral, but somehow soft as well in a way that Sam can’t place. He’s sitting very close to Sam, well inside his personal space, but it doesn’t bother him. It’s not that he’s desensitized to it - hell no, if anything, he’s hyper aware of the inches between them, of the heat and electricity radiating from the angel’s core - but rather that he _wants_ the angel close to him. He's wanted Gadreel close to him for a long, long while now. The wild thing inside of Sam is closer now, an epiphany just waiting to burst into the light.

“I came to see if you needed anything,” Gadreel adds, tone two parts question and one part apology. When Sam shakes his head, he nods to himself. “I’ll leave you, then.”

Sam’s hand reaches out and snatches Gadreel’s before he’s even had a chance to think about the movement. Gadreel’s eyes snap to his, surprised, muscles tensed. Sam's epiphany has arrived, and it draws the air from his lungs in a long sigh.  _Oh,_ he thinks, staring at the entity in front of him and wondering at how he hadn't understood before.

“Stay,” Sam asks softly, holding green eyes with his own until Gadreel’s body relaxes and he nods. Sam smiles at him, pleased beyond words, and loosens his grip on the angel’s hand, giving him the option to retract it if he wished. Hell knows if this realization was one way or not. But Gadreel merely twists his wrist, pressing their palms together and then twining their fingers shyly, eyes lowering to the dewy grass.

Sam should pull away, put distance between them. This - this was something that would end badly, it always ended badly, always ended with him staring at the corpse of someone he’d loved, someone who died because of _him_. This could grow into love so easily, had already been growing while he wasn't paying attention, and Sam doesn't want to damn Gadreel with his curse, doesn't want to damn his own heart again.

But it feels perfect, just sitting there with their fingers twined together on the damp grass and staring at each other underneath a sky of diamond-studded black velvet. It’s comforting and warm enough to chase the frost from Sam’s bones and buffet the wind away from his face. It feels like - Sam doesn’t even know. Like sleeping in when you’ve had good dreams and the pillow is perfect and the blankets aren’t suffocating. Like the warmth that rushes through you when you drink something hot when your body is frozen solid. Like a hug and a hand combing through your hair, quiet laughter in your ear, soft music to sway to.

It feels like home.

Gadreel’s expression shutters when Sam releases his hand, but then morphs into confusion when Sam slides closer, till their legs and sides are pressed together, and shifts the blue plaid monstrosity from around himself to drape over both of their laps. When Sam’s hand slides under the blanket and twines with Gadreel’s again, squeezing once, very lightly, the joy that breaks onto his face is enough to take Sam’s breath away.

The wind rustles Sam’s hair and sends a chill down his spine, but when he lets himself press that much closer to Gadreel, he feels something enormous and heavy and warm slip over his shoulders. It’s like a blanket, but the texture is wrong, and it’s too heavy. He knows what it is, but he’s afraid that if he says anything, the spell might be broken and the weight might vanish. He drops his head to Gadreel’s shoulder instead, feels and hears his soft inhale of surprise.

He smells like fresh soil and water and something else, something sweet and heavy and similar to apple blossoms, but not quite as sugary. There’s lightning there too, the signature thunderstorm scent of angel.

“Sam.” Gadreel breathes his name like it’s a blessing, or maybe a prayer. He tucks his head further, presses a kiss to the angel’s shoulder through the thin layer of his shirt. The weight around his back flexes slightly, and he realizes that he’s grinning like a fool against the crook of Gadreel’s neck. Sam can't remember the last time he was this happy. He feels delirious, light headed with euphoria as he gives in to the thing that has kept him up at night since July. 

It’s the sweetest form of surrender Sam’s ever felt. He laughs quietly in the glowing high of it, squeezing Gadreel’s hand before releasing it, hand trailing up his arm to press over his sternum and push lightly until he gets the idea and lays back. Sam presses into his side, rests his head on the angel’s chest as he stares up at the sky.

“Sam,” Gadreel’s voice is just a breath, name barely stirring the air. “May I hold you?”

Sam hears the hesitancy, the timidness in that question, and keeps himself from laughing, even if he can’t contain his grin. “Yes,” Sam agrees, and one hand comes up to stroke his hair, arm pressed solidly against his back. The other twines with his left hand, and Sam brings up to rest under his chin, ducks his head to kiss their entwined fingers just to hear the stutter in his breath again.

He falls asleep there, wrapped up in Gadreel, and he dreams of gardens and a joy so strong that it outshines every last star in the sky.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm beyond pleased with this. So so pleased.  
> Quick question for you: Where in winter do you think the next one should be? I was thinking Christmas, for obvious reasons, but there's also New Years' and Valentine's Day, and I can't pick one.


End file.
